Prank Calls
by Glinting Chrome
Summary: wesker receives prank calls. He gets mad. He gets even.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot of this story.

Note: A very short humor fic. Please forgive me... 

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It started early in the morning. Yeah, it. You got a problem with that? Anyways, it was too early for someone like Wesker to put his evil plans into action… so…

Wesker, being the innocent person that he is, is innocently munching a sandwich. Suddenly, the living room phone rang. He frowned and set down his half-eaten sandwich. He made his way slowly to the living room. He picked it up. There was a wracking cough at the other end. Then… "…Hello? Boss? This is Parker. *sniff* I'm afraid I won't be able to attending the meeting today. *sniff* I'm kinda feeling sick right now. *sneeze*" Wesker arched one eyebrow. "Sorry, wrong number," he mumbled and hung up.

He went back to finish his sandwich. Having done that, he hurried down to his basement-turned-laboratory.

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Wesker held the vial up and frowned. The substance inside should be a sick looking green, similar to the ones they used in horror sci-fiction movies with mad scientists and mutilated creatures, the result of failed experiments. But wesker had not expected the substance to be a goldish glittery color. It disappointed him so. Wesker appreciated gold, of course. But not now… Suddenly, his mobile phone rang. (Alexia's Berceuse plays in that boring monotone) He set the vial carefully, very very carefully, into its casing. He then reached for the cell phone and punched the 'receive calls' button.

"DAaaaaaaaaaaAAAD!!! You're supposed to pick me up from school nooooow!!! I've been waiting for an hour now! Don't tell me you-" Wesker interrupted the whiny girl's voice. "Sorry kid, wrong number." Instead of apologizing, the girl replied, "That is SO not funny, dad! Cut it out, ok? I'm not in the mood to joke right now." Wesker groaned. "I am not your frickin' daddy, OK?!" A pause in the other end. "So…umm… who are you?" Wesker's brain started to throb. "WRONG NUMBER!" he yelled into the mobile and hung up.

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He was debating whether to stick the syringe into his arm or stare at the goldish substance for another hour. He is an important man. If he failed, Chris Redfield and the others will mock his failure. Throw a big party. Live in fairy tale lives. Wesker shook his head. No. He will not let that happen. He will do whatever it takes to hunt them down and… and… well, ruin their lives. Therefore, it is clear that he should not take risks… He glanced at the syringe again. Ah, but this is too tempting… If it worked, he'll be a superhuman. If not, he'll be one of those failed experiments himself… He thought and thought and thought some more… and thought… and thought… he hand reached for the bottle of Tylenol. He thought even as he swallowed the pills. 

Patience is greatly needed... but unfortunately, Wesker is not a man of patience. Birkin had total confidence that this will work... but Wesker shouldn't really trust him. Indeed, Dr. Birkin is... no more. Wesker had worked with him long enough to know that he is cares about nothing else in the world other than his experiments... The man is a fool to trust Wesker. An absolute fool... Oh, but he really should play it safe... experiment on a lab mouse... time will be wasted though... Time is wasted by just standing there and thinking anyways. At last, without another thought, he picked up the syringe and jabbed it into his arm. 3- inch needle. Ouch. After completing that deed, he stared at the wall blankly for another hour… until the familiar melody starts playing, interrupting his daze. He groped for the damned cell phone and another few seconds trying to press the button. "H…h…hell…?" he muttered. "Jason! Is that you? My, you've grown up so! You hardly sound like a child anymore! How deep and manly you-" "W…wrong number…l…lady…" he interrupted the old quavering voice and hung up. 

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Many would have mistaken the inhabitants of the Redfields' house to be raving lunatics. A shrieking laughter pierced the usually calm atmosphere, joined by waves of giggles, causing the nearby neighbour to poke his head out of the window and yell "SHUT THE F*** UP! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!!!" Claire was practically rolling on the living room floor laughing. Leon even had tears of laughter in his eyes, the result of stifling his laughter. "I'm next!!" yelled Chris like an eight year old, and bounced over to the phone. The three (Claire, Leon and Sherry) was laughing too hard to actually hear him. "God, Wesker was _stammering_ just now! The Great Invincible Albert Wesker! Stammering!" said Claire in between laughs. Chris motioned for them to hold in their laughter while he dialed Wesker's cell phone number. Sherry clamped both hands onto her mouth while her body continued to shake. Quite a sight really. Sherry, seeming to bounce on the couch; Leon shedding tears and Claire biting her lips. A smile remained on Chris's lips, as he waited for Wesker to answer the call... 

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Wesker stared at the red eyes of the white lab mouse. They stared back. He blinked, and the mouse, startled by this sudden action, sprinted down the cage and stopped in a corner, shaking with fear. Wesker sat back in his chair and started thinking. "I will have these abilities... only if I die and have confidence that it will bring me back to life... Again... it is not wise to take such risks... but he had done the injection part, might as well finish it off. "If this doesn't work, I'm going to _make_ you rot in hell, Birkin..." he mumbled venomously to himself. As he was trying to fight off the feeling of doubt, the same irritating melody filled the four walled lab. He is also beginning to suspect that... "What to you want?!" There was a lot of static, then the other person answered, "Hey, dude, where the hell is your house? I've been driving for hours now..." Wesker gritted his teeth. "F***ing wrong goddamn number!" the guy ignored him. "Elm street, you say? First house I see? Jezus, you live in a Chateau?" "I said this is a wrong number." "WHOA! CHECK OUT THE SIZE OF YOUR POOL! I'm going to kick your @$$ so bad for not tellling me all this!" "SHUT UP OR ELSE _I'M _GOING TO KICK _YOUR_ @$$!" he nearly screamed. He knew it. Prank calls... but who? Why? He shook his head. He had a faint idea, which is growing clearer and clearer every second. "Redfields," he hissed. 

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"He's sure to crack soon..."said Leon, half hoping that it would be that easy to make Wesker go insane. The phone rang. Chris picked it up without a second thought. "Hello?" Claire's eyes grew big. She quickly scribbled "YOU IDIOT!" on a napkin and shoved it in Chris's face. He should've slammed down the phone when he heard the familiar voice in the other end. "Hey Redfield. Remember me? I'm sure you do. I know you did it. And the rest. Run for your lives when you hear the knock." All four of them jumped when someone banged hard on the door. "Wesker, what the hell-" Claire motioned for the other two to leave. Leon grabbed Sherry and they hurried out through the back door. "I promised to kick your ass. Well, here I am." Chris dropped the phone when Wesker broke down the door. "Holy... My mom is gonna be soooo mad..." Wesker glanced at him coolly. "Where's that useless S.T.A.R.S. handgun of yours, Redfield?" "You talking to me, mister?" asked Claire dryly, and aimed her grenade launcher at Wesker. "Claire! Oh my god! Not in here!!!" "But!" "This place looks like trash anyways. Won't make no difference." "God, Wesker, you are SO gonna get it." "Damnit, Claire, NOT HERE!!!" Claire shot, and missed. What happened next was another one of those never-ending combats between Wesker and the Redfields. 

Unfortunately, this story is not one of those never-ending ones. 

THE END 

"WESKER!!!! THAT WAS MY MOM'S FAVORITE VASE!" 

...the end 


End file.
